


Futon

by tsuristyle



Category: SMAP
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, conflicted bandmates, sharing a futon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuristyle/pseuds/tsuristyle
Summary: Tsuyoshi gave Nakai a playful shove, stretching out on his stomach next to him. "Then move. Unless you really do want me to sleep in your bed."Nakai made a show of getting comfortable, resting his head against Tsuyoshi's arm. "Maybe."(Set in 2003. Written August 2013.)





	

"You're staying, right?"  
  
Neither of them remembered exactly when, but sometime around the tour the previous year Nakai had started inviting Tsuyoshi over to drink at his place, and the habit had stuck.  
  
"Yeah." Tsuyoshi stretched his legs out, lazily watching Nakai carry their empty glasses into the kitchen. "I don't have to sleep on the floor this time, do I?"  
  
"That's 'cause you fell asleep there last time. I've got an extra futon." Nakai disappeared into his room for a minute and returned with an armful of bedding. He rolled it out on the living room floor, and then, with a glance at Tsuyoshi, flopped down onto it himself. "Or maybe I'll just sleep on it myself." He grinned, twisting around onto his back.  
  
"Can I sleep in your bed then?"  
  
"No."  
  
Tsuyoshi gave Nakai a playful shove, stretching out on his stomach next to him. "Then move. Unless you really _do_ want me to sleep in your bed."  
  
Nakai made a show of getting comfortable, resting his head against Tsuyoshi's arm. "Maybe." Tsuyoshi chuckled, but somewhere in there it turned into a yawn.  
  
After a moment, Nakai spoke up again, his voice low. "This okay?"  
  
He might have been talking about the futon. "Yeah," Tsuyoshi replied, propping his head on one elbow. "It's comfortable."  
  
He glanced down. His bandmate's eyes flicked away.  
  
"If it isn't--" Nakai started, and then stopped, fidgeting.  
  
"It's okay."  
  
Nakai glanced up, and their eyes caught for an instant that turned into a moment that stretched beyond all limits of safety-- and then Tsuyoshi leaned over and kissed him, a quick, tiny brush of lips.  
  
It felt like a mistake at first-- his bandmate was frozen and indecisive beneath him and for an instant Tsuyoshi was sure he'd just stepped off a cliff-- but then a hand slid into his hair and Nakai was pulling him back down and kissing him back and the tongue tentatively finding his own was definitely not a mistake.  
  
Nakai curled towards him, one knee bumping the side of his leg, his other hand fumbling between them to grasp awkwardly at Tsuyoshi's shirt sleeve. Tsuyoshi broke away just long enough to shift onto his side, one arm lightly circling Nakai's shoulders as the older man pulled him close. They kissed again, slowly, curiously; then Nakai abruptly broke away and wrapped both arms around Tsuyoshi's neck and buried his face in the spot above his collar with a small, soft noise.  
  
They stayed like that for a while, breathing slow and even. Tsuyoshi let the weight of his arm settle around Nakai and closed his eyes, trying to think of all the things Nakai might be thinking.  
  
"This is probably--" he started, and Nakai nodded. They pulled apart slowly, not meeting each other's eyes.  
  
Nakai gently brushed the hair out of Tsuyoshi's face. "Yeah," he murmured, smiling something that didn't quite resemble a smile, and sat up. "Good night." He stood unsteadily, and made his way to his own bed, bare footsteps on carpet fading into the distance.  
  
Tsuyoshi curled up in the futon, his bandmate's warmth still lingering alongside him, and tried not to think of anything at all.  
  
 _\--not good for the group--just because we're drunk--something that won't last--something that can't last--_  
  
\--and then Tsuyoshi heard soft footsteps on carpet again, and opened his eyes as the edge of the futon sank under Nakai's weight. His bandmate tugged at his shoulder, fingers warm through the shirt fabric, and Tsuyoshi pushed himself up. Nakai wordlessly slipped a hand into his, and led him through the darkness into his bedroom.


End file.
